And Morgan Makes Three
by Mikki13
Summary: Newly married, Chuck and Sarah are saddled with an unexpected houseguest. Part of the "Full Circle" series.


The sun slowly sets behind the Burbank horizon, a multitude of reds and oranges melting into the darkening sky and lending an aura of beauty to a slowing world. At the same time, a warm breeze gently ruffles the leaves of trees dotting the quiet streets as crickets chirp in the distance and the early evening humidity seeps into the air. Standing proudly among its suburban neighbors, a little yellow house appears to settle for the night, even while its inhabitants show no sign of quieting down. In fact, as the surrounding population sinks into couches and beds, winding down and relaxing after a long, hard day, two individuals are too wrapped up in each other to really notice. Two individuals are too focused on an entertaining game of cat and mouse to really care.

"I'm beginning to think you only married me for my body," Chuck gripes playfully, backing against the wall as Sarah saunters slowly toward him.

"Only for the first few years," she returns waspishly, completing the distance and running her hands down his bare chest.

"The _first_ few years?" Chuck queries, leaning against the cool plaster wall. "What are you going to do with me after that?"

"I still haven't decided yet." Placing her index finger into the belt loop of his jeans, she pulls him toward her for a kiss. The half-hearted fight leaves him immediately, their mouths melding together as her tongue sweeps across his lower lip, causing him to suck in a breath and open his mouth to her advances. Running his hands underneath the hem of her shirt, he fingers the soft skin of her back and explores the smooth, moist contours of her luscious mouth. His pulse rate increasing rapidly, he pushes himself against her muscular frame, enjoying the sounds she makes with each new touch of his hand.

But just before he really lets go, just before he really gives into her touch, their locked front doorknob rattles and the doorbell rings.

Groaning into her mouth, he ends the kiss but keeps his eyes closed tight. "Maybe they'll go away if we pretend we're not here," he suggests, his arms still wrapped around her sinewy body.

"It's worth a try," she agrees, trying to catch her breath.

And when no further sound emanates from their front door, the two smile lazily and move back together to continue the kiss. Chuck's lips brush against Sarah's warm mouth, eager for further contact. She tastes like cinnamon and caffeine, remnants of her early morning cup of latte. And as he falls into her embrace, his mind slips into a haze, all thoughts rapidly seeping away. Pushing his tongue into her eager mouth, his fingers return to their explorations of her lower back as she threads her fingers through his hair.

And then the doorbell rings again.

This time, Chuck's shoulders slump in defeat. "We'd better answer it," he says, attempting to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

Groaning softly, Sarah silently nods her agreement yet keeps her arm around her husband's back as the two head toward the front door. And when they find Morgan standing on the front stoop, a large traveling bag draped over his right shoulder, identical expressions of confusion waft over their features. Expressions which turn into disbelief when Morgan finally speaks.

"Hey, guys," he greets them, smiling widely as he deposits his bag on their porch. "Got room for one more?"

~*~

"He's not moving in here," Sarah states, glaring heatedly at her husband with her arms folded across her chest.

"Of course not," Chuck replies soothingly, shivering slightly and diverting his gaze to her forehead. "It's just for a few days. I'm sure those two crazy kids will work things out in no time."

"This is Morgan we're talking about here, Chuck," she returns, tightening her arms. "The same guy who thought spying on his ex-girlfriend was the best way to win her back."

"Well, but it worked, didn't it?" he replies, his expression turning sheepish when she cocks her head and raises her eyebrows. "Granted, it took him almost being murdered by angry mobsters first, but still . . ."

Sarah stares at him hard for a moment, and he can practically sense the internal battle being waged within her mind. Finally, after several intense seconds during which Chuck has to force himself not to back toward the door, she loosens her arms and takes a deep breath. "Okay," she relents, and his eyes widen in surprise. "But only for a few days."

"Thank you, sweetie," Chuck replies, then clears his throat when his voice emerges slightly high-pitched from pent-up tension.

"It's no problem," she says grudgingly, smiling slightly at his tone. "He _is_ your best friend, after all. Though I'm still not quite sure why . . ." This last is said with a touch of sarcasm, the corner of her lips quirking upward slightly.

"He's Morgan," Chuck says simply, shrugging. "It's like . . . a fundamental law of nature. Like E = mc². Or whatever goes up must come down. Only it's wherever Chuck goes, so goes Morgan."

"Don't I know it," Sarah replies drily, rolling her eyes. But something about the way Chuck is willing to stand up for his best friend, even despite her wrath, sends a warmth surging into her chest. Studying the man who stands before her, expression pleading and curls in disarray, she remembers all the reasons she fell in love with him. All the reasons why she abandoned her exciting life as a spy for one simple, loving future with Charles Bartowski.

Her eyes flicker toward their closed door, and she smiles when she remembers that Morgan is tucked safely away in their guest bedroom. Suddenly, the annoyance fades from her features and an entirely different look takes its place. As she begins advancing toward her husband, her smile turns predatory. "I just have one request," she says throatily. "More like a demand, really."

"What's that?" Chuck queries, swallowing hard when he notices the look on her face. Unbidden, his gaze drifts to her exposed thighs, her jeans discarded when she began to get ready for bed.

Her smile widening, she closes the distance between them. "Make sure we get some time together without Morgan," she responds. "Otherwise, I might become . . . _touchy_."

"We wouldn't want that," Chuck intones, a twinkle entering his cinnamon eyes as he returns his gaze to her own devilish blue.

"No," Sarah replies simply. "We really wouldn't." And she places her hand behind his neck, pulling him toward her and capturing his lips in a scorching kiss.

Her fingers caress the smooth skin of his neck and thread through his hair, prickles of heat flaring across his skin with each new touch. She pushes against his lithe frame, her tongue dancing circles in his mouth as she maneuvers him toward their bed. And when he falls back onto the mattress, she pushes him against the headboard and sits on his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. His hand travels up her shirt and a guttural groan escapes his lips as her thinly concealed sex brushes against his groin.

And then there's a knock at the door.

"Um, guys?" comes Morgan's tentative voice, stepping into the room. Still on Chuck's lap, Sarah leans against his forehead, groaning and attempting to catch her breath. "Can I sleep with you tonight? I just had a nightmare . . ."

Chuck stares at Morgan with a mixture of disbelief and incredulity, his eyes traveling from the fuzzy slippers on his friend's feet to the cockeyed nightcap on his head. "Uh, we're a little busy here, buddy," he points out, his hand still up Sarah's t-shirt. Blushing, he quickly removes it, trying to ignore the streak of annoyance which flashes within her deep blue eyes.

"Oh, okay," Morgan replies in a small voice, backing toward the door. "I just thought, you know, since we've been best buddies since we were five . . . and since I just lost my fiancé and all . . ."

Morgan may have a lot of flaws, but he has always been excellent with the guilt trips. A twinge of guilt reverberates through Chuck's chest, and he muffles a deep-seated sigh. "Morgan, wait!" he calls out, shooting Sarah an apologetic look. Her sigh is audible as she climbs off his lap.

Morgan's eyebrows arch hopefully. "Yeah?"

"Why don't we play Call of Duty for a little while, buddy?" Chuck suggests. When Sarah squeezes her eyes shut and falls back onto their rumpled mattress, he hastily adds: "Just for a few minutes, though."

Unfortunately, this does nothing to improve the situation. Sarah slips under the covers and rolls onto her side, leaving him to stare in consternation at her back. When he returns to their room an hour later, she's fallen into a deep sleep.

~*~

Chuck comes home early from his job as a video game technician two days later, intent on cleaning the rapidly growing mess Morgan has been leaving around the house. He's already convinced his best friend to spend the evening with Jeff and Lester, giving him time with the wife who's quickly becoming more than disgruntled. They haven't had a decent conversation since Morgan had his nightmare, and he's eager to get things back on track.

Plucking Morgan's dirty socks off the lampshade and his boxers off the living room floor, he turns toward the front door expectantly when he hears the knob turn. "Hi, sweetie," he says brightly when she enters their home, decked out in her plain clothes detective uniform. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a pony tail, her black slacks and jacket only slightly rumpled from the day's activities.

"Hey," she responds, her tone slightly cool. "Where's Morgan?"

She's hanging up her keys, not looking in his direction, so Chuck takes the opportunity to stash Morgan's clothing underneath the couch cushion. "He's hanging with Jeff and Lester," he says, smiling guiltily and stepping in front of the couch when she turns to him with raised brow.

"Really?" she asks, and he notices that a hint of warmth has entered her voice. "So it's just the two of us?"

"Yup," he nods. "And I've already taken the opportunity to pop some popcorn and put our favorite movie into the DVD player."

"Casablanca?" Sarah asks, a glint in her eye.

"Like I'd choose anything else," Chuck responds playfully. "I wouldn't want to risk your wrath."

"We wouldn't want that," she replies, winking coyly. Then: "Just let me change."

When she comes out five minutes later, dressed in a light blue tank top and blue jeans, her hair pooling around her shoulders, Chuck marvels at the fact that she can still take his breath away. Smiling crookedly at his beautiful wife, he comes to sit beside her on the couch, the popcorn bowl on his knee. And as they lean into each other's touch, they enjoy the first Morgan-free moment they've had in two days.

"It's nice to be alone," Sarah remarks, glancing at Chuck out of the corner of her eye as she cuddles underneath his arm.

"Morgan never has understood the idea of space," Chuck agrees, running his fingers along Sarah's bare shoulder.

Sparks of electricity flow from his touch into her skin, and she closes her eyes, relishing the sensation. Two days without this has seemed like an eternity. "Have you talked to him yet?" she questions, moving closer into his side.

A guilty look flickers across Chuck's features, and he pauses in his ministrations. "Um, not exactly," he says, shifting restlessly.

A short exhalation of breath escapes her lips. "Chuck, we agreed a few days."

"I know," he nods quickly. "Just . . . it's not quite easy to explain the concept of 'alone' to Morgan." When a flash of annoyance streaks through her eyes, he rushes ahead with: "But I'll talk to him tonight, okay?"

Sarah considers his words, weighing them over in her mind. But when his forehead crinkles and a beseeching look enters his eyes, the annoyance quickly seeps away. Her heart skips a beat as her lips quirk into a reluctant smile. "Okay," she agrees, the word broken into two distinct syllables as she drags the last one out. For someone who was a spy for over ten years, it's amazing how quickly Chuck Bartowski can get under her skin. A point which is further emphasized when he gives her that selfsame crooked grin, and she finds herself melting into his embrace. "Tonight," she reminds him, her tone not quite as forceful as she might have liked.

"I promise," Chuck agrees, crossing his heart and throwing away the key. Snorting softly, she laughs and swats him lightly on the shoulder. She must be slowing down, because he catches her hand and raises it to his mouth, giving her a kiss on the palm that sends a shiver down her spine. And when she looks intently into his face to find him gazing intently into her eyes, her expression softens. "Hey," he says, smiling gently.

"Hey," she responds, a breathy quality having entered her tone.

Their eyes lock, a thousand pent up emotions suddenly flickering within their depths. Chuck's stomach tightens with anticipation, his entire body eager for her touch. He can feel her breath on his cheek, her lips a breath from his own. "Sarah," he breathes, cupping her face. He moves in for the kiss . . .

And then the front door opens, and Morgan steps inside. "Hey, guys," he says nonchalantly, flinging his bicycle helmet onto the floor before he flops onto the couch. Unfortunately, he's chosen a seat directly in between Chuck and Sarah. Just before he finishes his downward descent, the two jump apart to avoid being sat on.

"Hey, buddy," Chuck replies, his voice slightly high-pitched as he shrugs helplessly at his incredulous wife. "What are you doing here? I thought you were hanging with Jeff and Lester tonight."

"I figured you guys needed me more," Morgan responds, reaching into their bowl and bringing a large fistful of popcorn to his mouth. "You know," he says around his gigantic mouthful, "Since you're letting me stay with you and all."

On Morgan's other side, Sarah is trying desperately not to revert to assassin tactics. Forcing herself to unclench her jaw, she turns to him with a pseudo-friendly demeanor. "That's really okay, Morgan." Hints of tension are still present in her tone, and Chuck knows she's only keeping up the façade because Morgan's his best friend. "You don't have to hang out with us every night."

"Yeah, buddy," Chuck chimes in, nodding perhaps a little too fervently. "I bet Anna really misses you."

"Anna Shmanna," Morgan waves the comment off with a flick off his hand. "I'm a man of the world, Charles," he states, nodding wisely and playing with his beard. "It's time that I start sharing myself with her women."

"From our guestroom?" Chuck queries, his voice squeaking on the last word as if it's hit his vocal chords in a strange way.

"Maybe, maybe," Morgan says absently, staring at the TV screen, completely oblivious to the looks the other two are shooting him. A moment later, he laughs loudly and points at the screen. "I love this part," he says, slipping his arms around Chuck and Sarah's shoulders and placing his feet on their coffee table. At the same time, Sarah wrinkles her nose and finally pulls Morgan's sock from between the couch cushions. (Chuck prays she doesn't find his boxer shorts next.)

And for the remainder of the movie, Chuck and Sarah sit in exasperated silence, the only noise emanating from the TV screen, punctuated by Morgan's frequent laughter. When the movie finally ends, Sarah gives Chuck a pointed look and excuses herself with a headache. _"Talk to him,"_ are the last words she mouths before heading down the hallway and closing their door with a bang.

Sighing heavily, Chuck does his best not to wring Morgan's neck.

~*~

Four days later, Chuck's determined to set things right. He hasn't had a waking moment alone with Sarah for the past six days, and he's desperate to change things tonight. Earlier that day, he'd had a talk with Morgan in which the latter had promised to apartment hunt all day and be gone (_really_ gone) all night. Now, as he places steaming plates of Chicken Cacciatore onto a table decorated with ivory candles and covered with an off-white tablecloth, he whistles off key as he thinks about the night he has planned. As he thinks about the romantic evening to which he intends to treat his wife. And when Sarah finally enters the kitchen, newly home from work, a goofy grin spreads across his face when he notices just how gorgeous she really is.

"Wow, Chuck," she drawls, taking in the fully laden table as she steps to his side. "What's all this about?"

"Nothing," Chuck replies, wrapping his arms around her slender frame and looking deeply into her bright blue eyes. "I just missed you."

A gentle smile plays along the corner of Sarah's lips, and she relaxes into his embrace. "I missed you, too," she admits. "It's been a little . . . difficult getting any time alone lately."

"Yeah," Chuck nods, his pulse accelerating at her proximity. "Morgan tends to have that affect on people. He's sort of like a high maintenance puppy. Only potty trained."

"We can only hope," she smirks.

Chuck snorts, his grin flaring before slowly fading away as he turns a little more serious. Gazing at her intently, he murmurs softly: "Have I mentioned lately that I'm in love with you?"

She pretends to consider for a moment. "Not lately, no," she says, a playful glint dancing within her eyes.

"Well then, Sarah Bartowski," Chuck says, leaning down to whisper huskily into her ear, "I've never loved anyone more."

"Mmm," Sarah replies, closing her eyes as she savors the feel of his breath against her skin. "I'm kind of in love with you, too, Chuck Bartowski." And then she turns her head and brushes her lips against his mouth.

After six days without her kisses, he quickly melts into her touch as light ripples of heat wash down his arms. His fingers are just inching up her shirt when she breaks the kiss, and he begins to groan at the loss of contact. But when he sees the look she's giving him, the sound dies on his lips.

"Morgan isn't coming back tonight?" she asks, leaning against his forehead.

"He swore he'd be gone all night," Chuck replies, going cross-eyed as he gazes at her lips.

"Because, you know," she says, cocking her head as her features turn coy, "We really haven't had a chance to christen the dining room yet." Giving him a meaningful look, she pounces onto the table with catlike reflexes, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him toward her. His eyes widen and his pulse races wildly as his converses squeak across the linoleum floor.

The position is reminiscent to one she adopted years ago while still working at the Wienerlicious. Only this time, her partner is entirely more willing. "Why, Mrs. Bartowski," Chuck drawls, recovering quickly and maneuvering himself in between her thighs. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Kiss me and find out, Mr. Bartowski," she commands, locking her ankles together as a sly grin spreads across her face.

"That's an order I just might have to carry out," he leans toward her mouth.

"I knew I'd find one eventually," Sarah whispers, completing the distance and capturing his lips.

The kiss heats up quickly, a week of bottled up passion flaring to the surface. His tongue explores the recesses of her mouth, gliding over each individual tooth, slipping along her ridged rooftop, tasting the soft sweetness of her cheeks. Tightening her legs around his waist, she pulls him flush against her muscular frame as breathless whimpers escape her lips. And when he grinds his hardening groin against her eager center, he thrills at the sound which emanates from her throat as his jeans grow uncomfortably tight.

They're so caught up in each other that they don't notice the small man enter the kitchen and sidle up to their refrigerator. But when the sharp noise of the blender cuts through the otherwise silent room, they suddenly spring apart and whirl toward the sound. Unfortunately, they're a moment too late. Just as their eyes land on the blender, an orange concoction flies from its bowels and splatters them from head to foot. Still seated on the table, Sarah takes the brunt of the blow.

"Oops," Morgan says, glancing at the mess. "I guess I should have used a lid with that."

Orange goop dripping from her long blonde hair, Sarah stares at him with livid intensity, her jaw working furiously. Chuck's eyes dart quickly from his best friend to his wife and back again, and his heart stops as he considers the possible ramifications of the situation. In a desperate moment, he has a wild hope that Sarah doesn't still take to strapping knives to her ankles.

"Um, honey?" Chuck stammers, placing a hand on her shoulder. Without really thinking, he steps between the two.

Blinking rapidly, she diverts her gaze from Morgan and looks at Chuck instead. Luckily, his voice and his touch seem to have a calming effect. She's no longer working her jaw quite so violently, and the livid look in her eyes has diminished slightly. Unfortunately, it hasn't disappeared altogether. She stares at him hard for a minute, and his eyes widen as he intercepts her silent communication. But before he can say anything else, she slips silently off the counter and heads determinedly toward their bedroom.

"What's wrong with Sarah?" Morgan questions in confusion.

Chuck's jaw drops slightly at the question, at the confusion in his friend's gaze, and he regards the other man in bewilderment for a long moment. But then he remembers the wife who just stomped out of the kitchen, and decides that he has other things to take care of first. "I'll be right back. Clean up this mess while I'm gone," he says, turning on his heel and striding toward his room. When he gets there, he finds an open suitcase on their bed and Sarah emerging from the bathroom, toweling off her hair.

"I'm going to Awesome and Ellie's," she tells him, throwing a large quantity of clothes into her suitcase. "You clearly need more guy bonding time."

"Uh, sweetie," Chuck replies, staring in dismay at the rapidly growing pile of clothes, "How long are you planning to stay there?"

"Look, Chuck," Sarah says, sighing heavily. "I don't fully understand the dynamics of you and Morgan, and I probably never will. I know that he's your best friend, so I'm willing to give him a break. But you need to talk to him." She pauses, then adds ominously, "Before I decide to take alternate measures."

"Alternate measures?" Chuck repeats, gulping. "What does that mean?"

Heading toward their bedroom door, she glances quickly over her shoulder. "Talk to him so you don't have to find out," she says sweetly, then turns and leaves the room.

Left alone, Chuck gapes openly at their vacant door frame.

~*~

When Chuck emerges from the bedroom several minutes later, Sarah is gone and Morgan is sitting on their living room couch, finishing his orangey drink. Chuck stares at him for a moment, then takes a deep breath and comes to sit by his side. "I thought you were going apartment hunting," he states rigidly.

"Aw, that got boring," Morgan replies. "Besides, the bed in your guestroom is much more comfortable." Chuck regards him in disbelief, but Morgan continues unabated. "Really, Chuck, you might want to think about opening a Bed and Breakfast. This place is great."

Chuck stares at his friend, waiting for the accompanying laughter that will tell him Morgan's kidding. When it doesn't come, his shoulders slump and he buries his head in his hands.

"Hey, buddy," Morgan says, slurping the rest of the drink. "You seem tense. Is something wrong?" When Chuck spreads his hand and gazes at Morgan through the gap in his fingers, the incredulity still prevalent in his eyes, Morgan continues. "What's up?"

"Oh, I don't know," Chuck states slowly, dropping his hand to his lap. "It could be that I haven't had sex in a week."

"Whoa, that really sucks. You know, there are things you can take for that, Chuck." He nods wisely and places a sympathetic hand on Chuck's shoulder.

Chuck's eyebrows shoot into his hairline. "Um, not exactly what I was getting at," he replies hastily. "But thanks."

"Any time," Morgan replies. "Any time."

Chuck pauses, trying to figure out the best way to approach this situation. Morgan never really has been very good at direct conversation. "Morgan . . ." he trails off, considering. Then: "Sarah just walked out on me."

Morgan clicks his tongue sympathetically. "Women are fickle creatures, Chuck," he states, shaking his head. "Look at Anna."

"That's the point," Chuck replies, throwing his hands out in frustration. "What about Anna? Are you ever going to work things out with her?"

"Nah," Morgan replies, placing his glass on the coffee table. A rim of condensation immediately begins to spread outward onto the polished wooden surface. "That ship has sailed."

"But why?" Chuck asks desperately. "I mean, there must have been a reason you asked her to marry you, right?"

"Sure," Morgan states, shrugging. "I asked her to marry me because you asked Sarah to marry you. Best friends should do these things together, Chuck."

"Okay," Chuck says slowly, considering the statement with an odd look on his face. "But you must have had another reason, right? After all, you two have been together for three years."

"Well, yeah," Morgan says, fingering his beard. "I mean, she likes me."

"That's always a plus," Chuck agrees, nodding. "I find relationships tend to work better when the girl doesn't want to use you for target practice. What else?"

"Well, she's pretty," Morgan begins, staring at the wall in contemplation. "And smart. I mean," he says, pointing at Chuck, "She can handle a computer like nobody's business."

"All very good," he replies, brightening. "Anything else?"

"Well," Morgan considers, "There's this thing that she does in bed with her great big f –"

"Whoa, whoa," Chuck cuts in, holding up his hands. "TMI there, buddy." He shakes his head violently, then, when it looks like Morgan might continue unabated: "Really. I don't need to know."

"Well, okay," Morgan agrees, shrugging again. "But it's really cool."

"I'll bet it is," Chuck states, shuddering slightly. "Look, Morgan. The point is, you have to go back to Anna."

"But why?" Morgan queries, a crease forming in between his eyes. "We were having so much fun here."

"Uh, yeah," Chuck replies, his eyes widening at the absurdity of the statement. "Morgan . . . Morgan, if you don't go home soon, then I think Sarah might kill you. And that would put me in kind of an awkward position."

Morgan's gaze drops to the couch, and he picks absently at an invisible piece of lint. "So what you're saying," he says slowly, "is that I'm not welcome here anymore. The Chuck and Morgan show has officially come to an end."

"No," Chuck rushes forward, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "No, what I'm saying is that I'm married now, buddy. It just can't be the Chuck and Morgan show all the time."

"I guess we have to grow up sometime," Morgan states, staring glumly at the couch cushion. "I just miss the way it used to be, ya know?"

A twinge of sympathy reverberates through Chuck's chest. "We'll always have the Chuck and Morgan show, pal," he says, clapping him on the arm. "Only now it's new and improved with co-stars and anchorwomen."

Morgan doesn't respond for a moment, and Chuck's brow furrows in the silence. He's about to say something more when Morgan finally meets his concerned gaze. The smaller man holds out his hand, and Chuck's relieved to see that some of the pity has left his expression. "Friends?" he asks tentatively.

Staring at Morgan's proffered hand, Chuck finally smiles and nods. "Friends," he replies, slapping him lightly on the back as he pulls him in for a quick hug. "Forever, buddy." He claps him on the back twice more before his muscles suddenly stiffen. "Uh, Morgan?" he queries, drawing back to look at the other man. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry, Chuck," Morgan replies, leaning forward and taking several short sniffs. "You just smell like oranges. Nice citrusy scent . . ."

The moment ends when Chuck switches to the armchair and hastily suggests the newest video game.

~*~

Chuck enters the guestroom three days later, intent on finding his wife. She returned from Awesome and Ellie's two days before, and he hasn't had enough time with her since. Of course, he's pretty sure that even if he spent the rest of his life with Sarah Bartowski, it still wouldn't be enough. Even so, things have been a little tense lately because he's not quite sure how to broach the Morgan Topic. And despite everything that he's put them through over the last week, he really misses his friend. So when he steps inside the room, he stops in his tracks and his eyes widen at the sight that greets him.

Sarah is standing at the window in bare feet, slacks and a light blue blouse, a roll of tape in her left hand. Directly above her, newly taped to the wall above the window, is a sign that depicts two short words: MORGAN DOOR.

"Sweetie?" Chuck questions, his pulse increasing hopefully as his eyes dart between the sign and his gorgeous wife. "What's that?"

Dropping the tape onto the window seat, Sarah turns to him with a gleam in her eye. "I thought we should have a Morgan Door," she says simply, shrugging.

A thrill of warmth courses through Chuck's chest as he soaks in the words. "Really?" he stammers. "But I figured –"

"Chuck," Sarah says, stepping to his side and wrapping her arms around his waist, "He's your best friend. I can live with a Morgan Door."

He gazes at her in wonder, a soft smile spreading across his face. "Thank you," he replies, running a single finger along her cheekbone.

"You're welcome," she says, leaning into his touch. "Of course," she continues a moment later, the corner of her lip quirking upward, "Unlike the one at your old place, this one's got a lock."

Chuck snorts softly, his smile widening into a grin. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he replies, then leans down and brushes her lips. When she promptly pushes him away, his brow creases and he regards her with a slightly worried expression. "Is something wrong?" he queries, watching her step over to the closet and look inside.

"Not at all," she replies easily, before she moves to the bed and looks underneath that, too. "I'm just making sure Morgan isn't here."

The laugh that bubbles up from Chuck's throat melts away all remaining tension. "And you claim that you're not funny," he says, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward him for another kiss.

This kiss is much deeper, much longer, and much more provocative. Sucking on his lower lip, Sarah pushes him onto the bed and runs her hand over the hardening length in his jeans before moving up to undo the zipper. And as they quickly undress each other and tumble into a passionate tangle of limbs on the guestroom bed, red hot sparks coursing deliciously down their spines and waves of pleasure washing sensuously over their bodies, everything else becomes a distant blur. Everything else fades away, the only thing permeating their conscious minds being how good it feels to be wrapped up in each other's arms, and how amazing it is to lose themselves in one another's touch. And as they slowly move toward sated bliss, this time there are no interruptions.

_Fin._


End file.
